Disclaimer: I don't own From Far Away (Kanata Kara)...but I wish I did. I so wish I did. I'd publicize it a lot more, so everyone could know the love that is Izark. Nor do I own Jeanie, the song from whence the top lyrics came. Again, I wish I did...though it's awefully creepy.

AN: My first Kanata Kara/From Far Away fic...Not that that's saying a whole lot, since this genre seems to exist in the single digits. If you haven't read FFA, please do. It's amazing. And it's the first manga that I loved so much that I actually bought it (as opposed to just reading it at the store and putting it down in dissappointment), and it is worth far more than the ten dollars per book. I'm talking about something that is seriously amazing here. Kyoko Hikawa, I believe, is the author, and she's a genius. Enough plugging, do you think?

For those of you who actually do read the series and aren't just reading this to humor me (though I thank you if you are one of the latter), I want to inform you that this fic contains MAJOR SPOILERS FOR BOOK 13!!! Have I made myself clear? Good. You may read the fic now.

Jeanie, quit living on dreams--
Jeanie, life is not what it seems--
You're lost in the night,
You've got to struggle and fight
With someone who needs you...
--Falco

The Holy City struck out from the ground with all the arrogance and naivety of a child playing soldier. A few pale men-at-arms stood on guard, but he didn't pay them any heed. A spell of his own slid him past their eyes and through the labyrinth of tunnels that wove beneath the city.

It didn't take much effort to locate the Awakening—all he had to search for was that odd absence of energy and presence. The shield was feeble, and thought it could have barred him from entering the chamber magically, it did nothing to slow his feet as they carried him to the unlocked door.

The Awakening's only guard was an old woman—a warrior of the Gray Bird Tribe, granted, but still only a feeble old hag. He only had to wait while she charged him; the instant she stepped outside the Moonstone shield she fell to the ground, limp and barely breathing under the force of his spell. The young girl gave a feeble cry and called out to the woman—a name he didn't bother to remember.

"You're wasting your breath," he observed coolly. "She won't wake."

"What did you do to her?" the Awakening demanded, her voice oddly breathy. A second glance revealed tat she was unnaturally pale and drenched with sweat, and she was nervously edging to the far corner of the bed where she lay. A stoic smirk touched his face: that was the response his presence deserved.

"I warned you," he said, ignoring her question. "You knew there would be consequences for rejecting me." She had reached the bed's edge and tumbled from it in a graceless heap. The sight raised a wicked smile on his face, which only deepened as she dragged herself farther away, glancing desperately at the pitiful rays of sunlight that dripped from the room's only window. Proving how useless her attempt to escape was, he crossed the room in a few noble strides. Now he stood over her, looking smugly down at the terrified girl. She flinched, clearly recalling what had happened when last they shared such proximity.

"You've been given time to decide." His voice dripped with sweetened venom. "Now make your choice."

A moment's silence sucked at the air before the girl closed her eyes and pulled herself to her feet. Rachef's keen eyes perceived how much effort the movement had required, how much her lithe frame now heaved with exertion as she propped herself against the open window for support. She leaned back, allowing an uninvited breeze to fan the sweat on her neck, billowing under her shortened hair.

"Ah," he said, leaning closer and catching a stray lock in his fingers. "I take it you didn't enjoy the haircut I gave you?"

//\ IZARK//\ Nearly a mile away, the warrior was thrown to his knees by the sheer force of the cry.

"Noriko?" he whispered in dread, starting back toward the fortress. Panic and questions chased each other through his mind as he began to sprint, paying no attention to the soldiers and monsters that he passed in his mad race. What was happening to her? Was she hurt? Where was she? How could he hear her now, when she should have been within the silencing barrier of the Moonstones? And why did her voice flicker so strangely in his head.

//\ Noriko//\

//\ PLEASE, IZARK! It's him! It's— //\ Again the cry frayed into unfathomable silence. His heart froze in his veins, but he urged his legs to go faster.

There was malice in Rachef's eyes as he tugged on the captive lock of hair, forcing the Awakening's head forward, out of the window and back inside the confines of the shield.

"Your answer," he demanded.

"I...I..." she stammered, but he caught her eyes quickly darting to his waist, searching for any sign of a weapon. He leaned forward with a serpentine smile.

"I see you remember my promise," he said silkily into her ear. "Grant me your power, and you will have your heart's desire. Refuse me..." His cold eyes were inches from hers now. "...And I will kill you."

Perhaps he acted out of malice or spite, or decided on a whim to investigate her past claim; but in the next moment, while she was weak and stuttering, he seized her by the head and laid his lips on hers. The kiss was cruel—cold and fierce and angry and unrelenting while she struggled in vain to escape. Yet all the while, it was veined with that undercurrent of seductive power, almost too sublime to comprehend.

When he finally removed himself, she looked unnaturally composed and calm, despite her ruffled hair and bruising lips.

"I think you misunderstood me earlier," she said after a steadying breath. There was a fire in her eyes, so oddly unlike his own frigid orbs. "I would rather die than help give you power."

Her words hung for a lethal moment in the air, poisoning his mind. Cold, cruel, merciless fury suffused through every fiber of his being.

She had rejected him utterly. She had rejected him. Refused him. Denied him. Insulted him.

His handsome face was twisted into a hideous snarl, and his eyes seemed illuminated with cold fire. Bloodthirsty rage coursed through his veins. His hands were almost shaking as they closed around her throat, lifted her into the air until her toes dangled in the air.

She thrashed and fought with all the strength that is so familiar to the final throes of death, striking at his arms and chest and face when it came within reach. His grip tightened and still she struggled. Her lungs ached already, and her exhausted body would not survive more than the next few seconds of abuse, but she couldn't quite bear to stop yet—not after what he'd done to her, not after what he'd done to Izark.
But even her spirit could not persist forever without air, and the desperate violence of her struggle slowed, faded, until she hung limp in the air. He tossed her to the ground, watching as she gasped, unwaking, for breath.

"I told you," he growled, readying the lethal spell as he knelt beside her. "And still you rejected me."

Another kiss—a farewell kiss—was imparted on her sleeping lips. Just as he was about to unleash the spell that would kill her, a powerful grip seized him and threw him aside. In his final moments of life, his eyes were focused not on his adversary, but on the girl—the Awakening—Noriko. She was right, he thought in some union of humor and despair. And as the Sky Demon descended to kill him, his only hope was that she would not wake until after her lover had killed him.

Only the victor would see his defeat.